Impossible Fantasy
by Imadra Blue
Summary: Darth Vader possesses a dead man's memory of windmill daisies and impossible fantasies... Slash.


**Pairing:** Anakin/Obi-Wan  
**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all its characters are property of Lucasfilm Ltd. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Notes:** Drabble written for Wordplaywright_._ This contains sexual fantasies involving 13-year-old Anakin, not actual slash interaction. Thanks to Furiosity for the once-over.

...

He can't smell the windmill daisies any more.

Darth Vader stands in the middle of a field of the hip-high flowers, watching them spin gently in the wind. The flowers cover the fertile earth as far as the eye could see, stretching across the horizon like a sea of white and yellow. He remembers that they had a sweet smell, subdued and innocent. When he first saw them, the petals of the flowers were white as snow, and the capitulum as yellow as Ceti VII's bright sun. Now, filtered through the oculars of his mask, they appear reddish, as though stained with blood. Which is appropriate, when Vader stops to think about it - which isn't often.

The stormtroopers stand behind him nervously. They are no doubt wondering why he ordered them to land in the middle of a field of flowers instead of heading straight to the nearby town, Lansing, to find the Rebel Alliance cell. Vader lets them wait, remembering the first time he had visited Ceti VII with a pang in the place his heart had once been.

In the days before the Clone Wars, no Padawan under the age of thirteen was allowed to go on a mission away from Coruscant. That changed once the Republic became desperate for Jedi of any skill level to aid them in battle. Vader remembers those days before the Clone Wars as though they are the memories of another man. Perhaps they are, at that - they belong to a dead man named Anakin Skywalker, not to Vader.

Ceti VII was the planet Anakin went on his first mission to as a thirteen-year-old boy, alongside his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The pain in Vader's chest grows stronger as the memories play out in his mind like a holorecording...

...

Anakin Skywalker flopped down on the ground and looked up at the windmill daisies that towered over him on all sides. They spun wildly in the strong breeze, sending their sweet scent past his nostrils. The sky was very blue and very clear, but for the occasional wisp of a white cloud. It was warm, but not too warm - a perfect day. Anakin laughed; he hadn't seen such a fertile, lovely planet since he'd had a small glimpse of Naboo four years ago.

He briefly considered if it was possible to send some of these flowered marvels to Padmé, but he knew that he would not be allowed. He remembered her beautiful face, like that of an angel, and let his mind focus on her. He took to wondering about scandalous things like if she looked as angelic without her clothes on. He blushed; his once innocent dreams of Padmé had taken decidedly not-so-innocent turns of late.

"Anakin, we can't stay here all day. We need to reach Lansing before nightfall," came the voice of Obi-Wan from somewhere nearby. He had a lovely voice, really. Anakin had once convinced him three years ago to sing an old Tatooine lullaby, and Obi-Wan had sung it perfectly. Anakin wondered why Obi-Wan didn't sing more, but reflected it was probably against the Jedi Code, much like running in the Temple, laughing too loudly, or having any sort of fun.

"I know, Master," said Anakin, sitting up. "I just wanted to rest here for a little while. It's beautiful."

Obi-Wan stood several meters away, frowning at him. He was holding a traveling pack in one hand, and a windmill daisy that he had picked in the other; he looked thoughtful. Anakin studied him with interest. Obi-Wan had taken it into his head to grow a beard after Master Windu had told him he had "the face of a boy" a few weeks ago, but all he'd achieved thus far was a bit of scruff. He looked ridiculous in Anakin's opinion.

"It is nice," said Obi-Wan. "But we have to complete our mission."

Anakin absently fiddled with his Padawan's braid and smiled. "Can't our mission include a bit of lunch? We've still got _miles_ to go, and I'm hungry."

"You're _always_ hungry," Obi-Wan said with a smile. He opened the pack he was carrying and tossed Anakin one of the ryera wafers they'd packed. Anakin deftly caught it, unwrapping it as Obi-Wan took out one for himself.

"I like places like this," said Anakin as he ripped off a corner of the wafer with his mouth, chewing viciously and then swallowing in great gulps. "No cities, no technology, no people. Just silence, nature, and beauty. This place is alive, not like Coruscant. I think I could be really calm and peaceful if I lived here."

"If you'd pay more attention to your meditating, you could achieve that through the Force on any planet." Obi-Wan unwrapped his own wafer and turned away as Anakin scowled at the mild rebuke.

"I'm trying, Master."

"There is no try. There is -"

"- only do or do not. I do listen to Master Yoda, you know."

"At least you're listening to someone, then."

Anakin ripped off another piece of his wafer, chewing it more thoughtfully. He cast a glance at Obi-Wan. The older man seemed distracted, and was staring off at the horizon with a distant expression on his face. Anakin wondered what he was thinking about, but knew better than to ask. Obi-Wan did not like to share his private thoughts with anyone, especially his own Padawan. He was like a puzzle to Anakin, one Anakin wished he could solve, but he didn't have access to all the pieces.

As Obi-Wan turned his back to him, apparently wrapped up in his own thoughts, Anakin's gaze drifted over Obi-Wan's body. The wind whipped around Obi-Wan's lengthening hair, revealing the pale flesh of his neck. What Anakin knew to be a strong, defined back was covered in Obi-Wan's thick tunic, which rippled in the wind. The clothes made him look stockier than he really was. Anakin's gaze continued to travel downwards, resting on the curve of Obi-Wan's ass. It was well shaped, visible even through his loose-fitting trousers; Anakin had seen Obi-Wan naked in the showers, and knew it to be curved quite nicely, as sculpted as his back. Anakin imagined it to be rather firm to the touch.

Anakin's cheeks flushed, and he quickly took another bite of his lunch. He kept wondering what it would be like to touch Obi-Wan, to run his hands over that defined back and find out how firm his ass really was. He imagined Obi-Wan's skin was smooth and cool to the touch. Visions of Obi-Wan touching Anakin back filled his mind. He imagined strong hands running gently over his thighs to reach between them, spreading Anakin's thighs with a deft maneuver. Anakin could almost feel Obi-Wan's lightsaber-callused fingers wrapping around his cock, stroking firmly, insistently, wantonly. He could almost hear Obi-Wan's melodious voice flutter against his ear, in that impatient tone he always took when ordering Anakin around.

_Come, Anakin. Come for me._

"Anakin! Come on. We have to leave."

Anakin was startled out of his fantasy, gasping for air and feeling incredibly warm. Obi-Wan stood over him with his hands on his hips, frowning. Anakin looked up at his Master, imagining that if his cheeks were as red as they felt, then he must resemble a Solustan tomato. He shoved the last bit of his wafer into his mouth to avoid having to speak, for fear his voice might give him away.

"Have you gone deaf? I called you twice, and you didn't answer."

Anakin swallowed noisily, his eyes darting around, wishing it would rain, someone would shoot at them, a large monster would attempt to eat them for lunch - anything. "I, erm, was thinking."

Obi-Wan's gaze rested on his lap, his eyes widening slightly. Anakin crossed his legs, wishing for the first time in his life that he was a woman, so his arousal wasn't so kriffing _obvious_. "I... see. I'll give you a moment to take care of that," said Obi-Wan. "Through meditation," he added after a moment's thought.

Anakin groaned as Obi-Wan walked away, muttering about teenagers and hormones. Anakin flopped back down on the ground, trying to connect enough to the Force to calm himself down, to let his lustful thoughts pass through him. The ability escaped him at the moment. Anakin knew he shouldn't think such lustful things about Obi-Wan. He knew Obi-Wan would never do any of the things Anakin imagined him to do late at night, when Anakin was half-asleep and absently rubbing himself. Obi-Wan was the perfect Jedi; Anakin doubted the older man had ever masturbated in his life.

Anakin's mind shifted back to Padmé, which was no help at all, since she insisted on being nude in his head, too. It was always either her or Obi-Wan who plagued his fantasies. Both were hopeless scenarios, but Anakin feared Obi-Wan might be offended to find out why Anakin sometimes stared at him when they went to the communal shower. Anakin didn't even want to think about what caustic remark Obi-Wan might make if he found out. Worse yet, what if he refused to ever be seen with Anakin again and sent him to another Master?

_Just don't think about him. Focus on Padmé. That's normal, and you'll probably never see her again, so it doesn't matter. Just think about her, not him._

He stood up after a few moments, still blushing. Obi-Wan, thankfully, didn't make any smart comments about it and simply motioned him to follow. They continued their trek to Lansing with little conversation.

It wasn't long after that day on Ceti VII that Padmé became the one Anakin usually thought about, sometimes at the exclusion of all else. But sometimes, just sometimes, he couldn't help but think of windmill daisies and impossible fantasies...

...

"Lord Vader?"

Vader shakes himself out of his reverie. He focuses on the here and now, where he is a Dark Lord of the Sith, not a Padawan Learner. Anakin Skywalker is dead, his body rebuilt with metal and machinery, skills honed to deadly perfection. Where once was a weak man named Anakin stands a great man named Darth Vader. A great man who has no time for flowers and daydreams. The only fantasy Vader currently entertains about Obi-Wan Kenobi is to make him pay the ultimate price for the injuries he inflicted upon Vader at Mustafar.

Vader envisions himself cutting Obi-Wan in half, and the pain in his chest grows dull and fades away. He looks around at the field of flowers, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat. "Burn it," he says.

"My Lord?" asks the stormtrooper, confusion coloring his voice.

Vader strides past him without a glance, his black cape fluttering in the gentle breeze. He heads toward the landspeeder that awaits him. "Burn the entire field, Commander. Don't leave a single flower standing." As several of the stormtroopers move to fulfill Vader's orders, Vader speeds off towards Lansing with the rest of the battalion.

He cannot bear to stay and watch the windmill daisies burn.

_End._


End file.
